


Dein Glück ist nicht mein Glück

by Birchen, Hagebutt



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Balkantalia, Basically, Croatia is a whore, Forced Relationship, M/M, One Shot, PROTECT SWEET BOSNIA, Prostitution, THEN CRY, The Habsburg times, but Austria even more, little porny little angsty, prepare to moan, translated by meh, written by my dear Hagebutt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 21:58:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16962249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birchen/pseuds/Birchen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hagebutt/pseuds/Hagebutt
Summary: Austria protects Croatia as a part of his monarchy, but he has to pay a price for that. Even if it means he has to spend nights with the one he hates and leaving his true love behind.A translation of a ONESHOT by my dear Hagebutt





	Dein Glück ist nicht mein Glück

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another translation of Hagebutt's story is here~ Please let her know how you liked it (and me as well^^)
> 
> This time in Balkantalia:  
> AUSTRIA (Roderich) as the bored aristocracy  
> CROATIA (Dražen) as the whore  
> BOSNIA (Enis) as the ball of despair
> 
>  
> 
> _(For translation of phrases see the End Notes)_
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy <3

The window was open, the chirping of some nocturnal bird resonated from the garden as the wind slowly shifted the heavy brocade curtains back and forth.

Both men were lying on the crumpled sheets not uttering a word, only wheezing after the exhausting activity, until one of them said, “Thank you, Dražen.”

Such a cold reaction, given the previous events, was no surprise to Dražen; he was used to such coldness from him. But it didn’t mean he was pleased with it.

“Roderich, are you being serious?” he moaned and turned on his back so that he could stretch his legs. “I came here, I had to obey your orders-“

“Subtle suggestions regarding my needs,” Roderich corrected him.

“-and now after such, let’s be honest here, a quite satisfying performance I won’t receive any decent praise? Oh yeah, but you can’t say it, can you,” let out the Croatian. “And what did you expect?”

Roderich turned on his back as well. Sometimes he appreciated people who were able to have a passionate discussion with him even after the act of love (instead of turning to their other side and snoring soon, like that annoying Prussian man always did). "A bag of golden coins? Or an offer that the monarchy would conquer another city in Dalmatia?” 

“I can do that myself,” frowned Dražen and  Roderich didn’t object that. Croatia was a skilled fighter. Roderich sighed as he imagined his chest, scarred by the recent countless fights with Turks, towering above him, and Dražen's strong tanned hands holding him.

“I mean,” gestured Croatia vehemently with his hands and almost tumbled down Roderich’s glasses from the nightstand. “Your monarchy is huge and so are your opportunities to fuck. Your wife, for example. I fail to understand why it is me who must always be called here to Vienna. I have many other things to do instead of running to your place every time you feel itching in your pants.” 

Roderich turned to him so that he was facing him. He told him calmly, “I believe I have to remind you that you are my subordinate, so you “run to my place” every time I please, and you know it. You’re crossing the line. Leave my wife alone. And no one chooses the frequency of changing my provinces other than myself.”

“Well, at least it’s not the job of the Franz Josef,” mumbled Dražen into a pillow. He knew he was overstepping but he continued anyway. When else could he afford to tease his superior? When else, if not when they were both laying naked, wrapped only in soft sheets, exhausted after satisfying the demanding needs of Roderich? 

Roderich grinned. He couldn’t help it; he found Dražen's sarcasm quite refreshing. Not as if he’d ever tell him that, of course. Only few nations had the courage to be this rude to Roderich. Even Czechia, his favourite province, had recently been quiet when he was around, and he missed her sharp tongue. 

“But seriously. Your wife is like fire; as I’ve found out myself when we’ve been supressing the rebellion there with Jelačić back then. Why aren't you satisfied with her, and looking for other lovers across the whole Europe?”

“Quit it, or I’ll let you tongue be cut out,” warned him Roderich, being so touched by the insult of his wife that he forgot for a moment that it was the nineteenth - and not seventeenth - century. “Erszébet and I have a healthy, reasonably open and forgiving relationship. We visit each other’s rooms, but we respect the needs of each other, too.” 

Dražen frowned, “You let your woman tell you what to do? I’m surprised you haven’t been overthrown yet, “he grinned. 

Roderich pulled one of his long, light brown hair locks and, somehow theatrically but painfully, too, slapped his face. “You’re on thin ice, _Kroatien_ , I’ve told you twice to stop with that,” he hissed. “I can make you even smaller than you already are – for example by exchanging your regions with Turkey for stability.” 

Croatia gritted his teeth and rubbed his reddish cheek, but said nothing. Threats with Turkey worked anytime, even thought, according to Roderich’s connections , the nation was weaker than he seemed to be, and was called “the sick man upon the Bosporus” inside the diplomatic circles. But Croatia had probably no idea. It was easy for him to lose the view of the bigger picture while fighting Turkey for every little piece of his land. 

A long, upset silence followed. Roderich rubbed the bridge his nose. There were many people he cherished more than that the unruly Croat, but still, he didn’t want to have bad blood between them. His Balkan back-up and, to be honest, a really skilful lover was important to him. And Roderich didn’t like arguing, unlike Erszébet who quite enjoyed arguments. Keeping the monarchy together was of the highest importance, and the unfortunate conflicts between the Czech lands and Hungary were already giving him migraines. 

“I don’t get it. Is your wife obediently waiting for your return, or does she have secret lover, too?” asked Dražen curiously. So his upset silence didn’t last long, but the tone of his voice was softer, prepared to yield. After all, he was just one of the Transleithanien provinces – what if Austria started to look for other lovers…? 

“You should show Erszébet her place.”

„Well, your place is being bent over this piano,” Roderich warned him. “The monarchy is dual, Erszébet is an admirable, independent woman, and I have no intentions of restraining or commanding her love life."

Luckily, Dražen had no idea of the true nature of the strange relationship between Austria, Hungary and Prussia. Let alone the relationship between Czechia and Hungary. And good for him. Roderich would have a lot to explain. 

“Over your precious piano!” squeaked Dražen sarcastically. “I feel so honoured, _hvala bogu!_ ” 

“We have decided that you would use only civilized languages in my presence, haven’t we?” frowned Roderich, but had to press his lips together to hide a smile. Dražen pulled him closer into his arms and let his fingers run on his back.

“That tickles, stop with that!” 

“It’s almost like you had a constellation on your back, “smiled Dražen.

Roderich calmed down. Indeed, Dražen was connecting the moles on his back with soft brushes of his fingertips into unexpected stellar shapes. He had to smile again. When Croatia was near, it was easy for him the get into a better mood, as if the time had smoothed their disputes and it was only their long-term, not friendship, but -Collaboration? Acquaintance under the influence of the circumstances that turned out more pleasant than expected? – that was left.

“I didn’t know that you people from Balkan were such romantics.” 

Dražen choked into his palm. “We’re not,” he reassured him, “It’s just me - the others are ill-bred bumpkins.”

Roderich listened to his accented German with soft consonants and hard vowels, and dreamed of another night with Dražen, when he’ll be moaning into the pillows, sweep the sweat out of his forehead, beg him to let him come, to put it simply - when he’ll lay down under Dražen once again. Roderich enjoyed being “the one that receives” and Dražen was fine with being the top. This Croatian province was a great company when the recent development of political issues didn’t allow Prussia to pay him a visit. Roderich was glad he had him.

\----------------------------------------

 “Don’t cry,” Dražen soothed the young man with round cheeks, and stroked his thick, brown hair. „You know I’ll be back soon, Enis, you hear me?” 

“B-but I don’t want you to travel to Vienna!” cried out Enis and swept his tears with the sleeve of his uniform. “I don’t like the way Austria looks at you every time we’re visiting their place for that stupid Christmas dinner. W-why must you always obey him? Can’t you stay here, with me and Slovenia by the Adriatic sea?” 

Dražen's heart shook with ache. “You’ve got no idea how much I’d like to! You think the sky in Vienna is as blue as here? It’s not. But,” he emphasized and grasped Enis by the shoulders, “ I do it for you, you know that, right.”

The uniform Enis was wearing was pretty wet by that time. “I don’t wanna!” he cried out like a stubborn child. 

“Why? He won’t do me any harm.” 

Enis looked at him, his eyes reddish from crying. “B-but I’m worried that when you spend too much time with him, you might start to like him more than me, “he whispered into his ear.

The steam locomotive whistled impatiently, but Dražen had to take care of this.

“I can sleep with him without having to like him,” he reassured his tiny ball of despair. “You know that, you’re not five anymore. Remember the harem of Turkey?” 

Enis shuddered after remembering those times and Dražen wanted to slap himself the second after he’s said that and reminded Enis of it, but he continued to speak: “Well, and when I sleep with him from time to time, at least he doesn’t stare at you or Janez. But I have explained that to you two, haven’t I?” 

Dražen sighed. It was pretty tough being the big brother and protector of those two blockheads. Especially Bosnia needed his help a lot. He swore to God, if Roderich ever notices those huge, helpless eyes and innocent face-! 

Enis clenched his fists grasping Dražen's jacket. “ _Voliiim te!_ ” he sobbed for the last time. “Don't stay there for too long!” Dražen smiled nervously, “I won’t,” he promised, even though he wasn’t sure if he could keep the promise. 

_ "I ja tebe volim, Bosna." _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, bre~
> 
>  _Hvala bogu!_ =  
> Thank God!  
>  _Voliiim te!_ = I looove you!  
>  _I ja tebe volim, Bosna._ = I love you too, Bosnia.


End file.
